


Turned

by vulcanhighblood



Series: The Vampire Homeroom Teacher [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Missions Gone Wrong, Misuse of A Sealing Scroll, Panic Attacks, Temporary Character Death, Vampire Turning, Vampire Violence, Vampires, vampire lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanhighblood/pseuds/vulcanhighblood
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission - take out a missing-nin, collect the body, get paid. Next thing Iruka knows, he's waking up with a whole new thirst for blood and instincts he doesn't quite know how to control yet. Things could be worse, though. At least he hasn't killed anyone... yet.
Relationships: Teuchi & Umino Iruka
Series: The Vampire Homeroom Teacher [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984759
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Turned

Iruka groaned, fighting his way to consciousness. It seemed to take more effort than he ever remembered, though admittedly his memory was a bit foggy at the moment. He tried to move, but his whole body screamed in agony, apparently dead set against it. For several moments Iruka lay still, until he realized to his dismay that he wasn’t breathing. 

_ That _ caught his attention, and he immediately sucked in a lungful of air. This turned out to be a bad idea, as apparently his throat and lungs were full of blood. It still hurt to move, but now his diaphragm was also spasming, trying to force thick, sticky blood up his throat and out of his mouth. Iruka managed to heave himself upright, spitting black flecks of goo across the grass and grimacing. Blood only looked that dark if there was a lot of clotting - clots in the lungs seemed like pretty bad news. 

He coughed again, the force of it knocking him forward. His hands slid across the grass as he fell on his face. It took a moment for a sharp burning sensation to reach him, focused as he was on coughing up a lung. When he curled his arm in, cradling the painful limb against his chest, he noticed that the tips of his fingers were burnt. What had done that? He glanced over to the small patch of ground, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just simple sunlight-dappled grass.

Iruka frowned at the patch of sunlight, then glanced down at the thick, black blood he’d been choking on. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up to feel his throat, his fingers easily finding two deep puncture wounds in his neck. 

No. No. It couldn’t be, Iruka thought frantically. He was starting to remember now - a flash of teeth, piercing pain at his throat, thick, black blood smeared across his lips… 

Hand trembling, Iruka slowly reached out until the sunlight fell across the tips of his fingers once more. It  _ burned. _ Gritting his teeth, Iruka held it there, staring furiously at his hand until the skin began to blister. He tugged it back in, away from the burning sensation, and fought back a sob.

This couldn’t be happening! It wasn’t fair, it didn’t make sense… this couldn’t be real!

…this couldn’t be real. 

The realization struck Iruka like a thunderclap. He was caught in a genjutsu! Obviously this was an illusion of some kind, some way to confuse and disorient him! Focusing, Iruka clapped his hands together, dispelling the genjutsu.

His hand still throbbed painfully. Black blood still coated his lips, bubbling up from battered lungs. Fighting off the urge to panic, Iruka tried again, and again, and again, all to no avail. 

Finally, he stopped trying, a tiny sob escaping him as he came to terms with the truth of his situation. This was not an illusion. This was not a trick. He, Umino Iruka, had been turned into a vampire, and there was no known cure for the ailment beyond a  _ permanent _ solution.

He groaned, trying to remember the series of events leading up to this point. Gradually, his mind began to recall what had happened. He had been on a mission, separated from his team… no, they’d split up. It had been intentional, an effort to cover more ground. They were after a shinobi who had been a source of conflict along a trade route, suspected of being a missing-nin from Iwagakure, and Iruka had found him… 

Oh. Found him  _ feeding _ on one of Iruka’s comrades. That hadn’t been in the bingo book. He had to have been turned recently. That must have been why Iwa hadn’t bothered to send a hunter-nin squad after him - trying to take down a vampire ran a high risk, and it was easier to just let someone else to do the dirty work.

Iruka had gritted his teeth in frustration at the thought. It hadn’t escaped his notice that, as their employer lived on the border of Fire Country, he had likely known that the shinobi in question was a vampire and had withheld this information when hiring Konoha for the job. It did explain why he’d insisted on _two_ three-man cells for the job. But not giving them the full story had left both squads woefully unprepared to face a _trained shinobi_ that was also a _newly turned_ _vampire._ And what if the vampire hadn’t come alone? If he had gone missing-nin, it was likely because he’d been welcomed into a clan, as vampire clans were notorious for demanding undivided loyalty. They were also notorious for not allowing their family members to travel _alone._

Iruka had stared at the vampire draining his teammate’s blood, and he’d immediately created a clone, telling it to find his teammates and apprise them of the situation. Then, with a grimace, Iruka had jumped to the ground, hoping his fellow Konoha shinobi had enough blood remaining to survive the encounter.

“Hey!” he shouted at the vampire, desperately wishing he’d brought along some silver-tipped kunai. He’d settle for holy water, even. “Leave him alone!”

The vampire had lifted his eyes, revealing his hitai-ate, the symbol of his village struck through with a sharp line. “Don’t move,” he’d purred, licking his bloody lips with relish. “I’ll have you next.” 

The utter  _ calm _ with which the vampire had delivered this message had confused Iruka. What was this monster thinking? He’d gripped his kunai hard, trying to figure out where the vampire might be vulnerable. His eyes might take a bit of effort to heal, should he aim for the eyes?

Iruka had thrown the kunai, only for the vampire to growl and snatch it from the air. His mouth had stretched into a horrible, blood-soaked grin, putting his long fangs on display. “I guess feeding really does make you stronger,” the vampire had sneered, slowly rising to his feet, gaze fixed on Iruka. “I believe I told you before, but let’s try this again,” he had leaned forward, his voice a low rumble as he commanded,  **_“Don’t move.”_ **

There had been something in those eyes, that voice, a  _ compelling _ sensation that left Iruka feeling dazed and pliant. Iruka knew better than to just  _ stand _ there and listen to the creature, but in that moment it had felt as though there was literally no other option but to obey. What else could he have done but stand still, watching as the vampire turned back to his friend, draining Kotarou a bit more before slicing open his own skin and feeding the fallen Konoha shinobi his own thick, black vampire blood. 

They had waited like that, Iruka frozen in thrall, the vampire overconfident and sneering. One minute had passed. Then two. Then five. Then Kotarou - a Chunin, like Iruka - had convulsed, screaming. Black blood bubbled from his lips as he tore at the ground, face twisted in anguish. The screaming had subsided after a few seconds, and the vampire had sighed in disgust before turning to Iruka. “I suppose it’s your turn now,” he’d hissed, and then there was nothing but  _ fangs _ and  _ pain _ and  _ blood _ and  _ darkness. _

Now that Iruka was piecing together what had happened, he wondered why the vampire hadn’t waited to see if Iruka’s turn had been successful. Or had Kotarou turned, too? Iruka’s head swung around to look for his comrade - he was still lying on the ground, and Iruka  _ knew _ instinctively that the man was truly dead. 

He didn’t want to dwell too much on how easily the knowledge came to him. How quickly these newly heightened senses could tell Iruka that the man’s heart wasn’t beating, that his blood had been almost totally drained from him, that the remaining blood had been tainted by the curse of the vampire. 

But where was  _ the missing-nin vampire? _

Groaning, his body still aching (though it hurt less now than it had when he’d first clawed his way back to consciousness), Iruka stumbled over to Kotarou, taking out a storage scroll and sealing away his fallen comrade’s body. Tucking the scroll away, Iruka listened, trying to catch the telltale sounds of combat. It took him a few seconds before the faint echo of voices in the forest clued him in to the likely location of his team. 

Careful to avoid sunlight - his fingers still hurt, though the blisters had already started to fade - Iruka took to the treetops, leaping in the direction of the sounds of combat. 

It didn’t take long to find them. Dropping to the ground, Iruka stared at the scene before him. Two more Konoha shinobi, grievously wounded, but still alive and breathing. One medic ninja, leaning against a tree, fighting for consciousness against the pain of a broken leg twisted at an impossible angle. A single vampire, struggling against the bonds of a shadow held by the final member of their team, Nara Hiroshi. The man was sweating bullets, obviously fighting hard to hold the enraged vampire. His eyes widened when he spotted Iruka. “Get him,” he rasped, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Iruka stared dumbly at the older Nara shinobi. 

“Use a damn stake!” Hiroshi hissed, indicating the weapon clutched in the hands of Kasa Tadashi, their medic.

Iruka wanted to help, he did. But there was so much blood. Iruka swallowed hard. Tadashi was bleeding, and he didn't trust himself anywhere near human blood right now. “I can’t,” he choked out, staggering back several steps. “I’m sorry, I can’t…” 

The vampire spoke then, his voice purring. “Excellent,” he hissed. “My spawn.”

Iruka shuddered. Not only because of the vampire’s horrible voice, but because some small part of him  _ loved _ that voice. Would do  _ anything _ for him. 

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, this was bad. “He’s got me in his thrall!” Iruka cried, backing up further, “I don't think I can be trusted to kill him!” 

Hiroshi groaned. “Tadashi!” he snapped, “Tell me you can walk!”

Tadashi groaned, his hand glowing green with chakra as he managed some quick first aid, running his hand along his leg with a grimace. “Gimme a minute,” he spat through clenched teeth.

“Spawn,” the vampire hissed, “kill him.”

No, no,  _ no, _ Iruka covered his ears and curled up, crouching low to the ground. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t! Not his team! He felt like there was a battle being waged within his very bones, one side demanding he obey his sire, the other screaming that he had to protect his teammates. One side would win eventually, but Iruka couldn’t tell which side was stronger. He could only close his eyes and use every ounce of willpower he possessed to save his fellow shinobi from these new vampiric instincts. 

It was hard to tell how much time had passed until suddenly, Iruka felt something inside him  _ snap _ , like a thread pulled too taut. A moment later, he heard a wet  _ thump _ , and when he opened his eyes, the severed head of the missing-nin stared up at him from several feet away, eyes unblinking. Iruka’s gaze continued upward, and he spotted the body of the vampire a moment later, a stake planted firmly in its chest. 

Tadashi was panting heavily, still gripping the hilt of his Katana, which had apparently done the beheading. Behind him, Hiroshi had slumped to the ground and was gasping for breath now that he was able to release his shadow possession. 

“Iruka,” Tadashi said, “The thrall - it’s broken, right?” 

Iruka nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, feeling a cold emptiness in his chest like he’d lost someone precious. He knew, intellectually, that the vampire had only attempted to turn him in hopes of setting Iruka against his own teammates, and yet some small part of him  _ mourned _ the creature. It was a terrible feeling, to simultaneously hate and yet mourn the vile monster that had slaughtered Kotarou. 

“Right,” Tadashi said, staggering towards Iruka, “You look pretty beat up, why don’t I check-”

Iruka realized, then, that they hadn’t realized what he was, yet. Somehow, it had escaped their notice that the vampire had called Iruka his  _ spawn. _ “Wait!” he cried, stumbling backwards until he ran up against a tree. “Don’t come any closer!”

Tadashi frowned in confusion. Behind him, Hiroshi lifted his head, a cold look crossing his features as his gaze fixed on Iruka. “We thought you were dead,” Hiroshi said slowly, “When your clone disappeared mid-sentence.” 

Iruka felt hysterical laughter bubbling at his lips like the black blood from earlier. “I was,” he said faintly, “But I’m not. Not anymore.”

“He turned you,” Tadashi whispered, face paling in sudden understanding. A moment later he was scrambling backwards, clutching the hilt of his Katana tightly, pointing it at Iruka. “You’re one now, too! A vampire!” 

Iruka nodded miserably. “I am.”

Tadashi’s hands were trembling, and Iruka could  _ smell _ the fear coming off of him in waves, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the warm, rich scent of blood.

It was hard to explain. Iruka knew what blood smelled like, of course. And he’d never cared for the smell before. But now, despite the fact that the smell itself hadn’t changed, Iruka felt his reaction to it shift. It smelled  _ warm, _ inviting, delectable… it smelled so  _ good _ that for a minute Iruka almost forgot that the thick, coppery scent permeating the air wasn’t a good thing. 

Iruka clutched at his head, cursing under his breath as he realized how  _ dangerous _ a thought like that was. “Oh no, no, no,” he whimpered.

“Iruka!” Hiroshi called sharply. “Focus.”

Iruka nodded quickly, lifting his head to face the older man. “Yes sir!” he replied.

“Are you beholden to a clan, now?” Hiroshi demanded.

Iruka shook his head slowly. “When you killed him, I think it cut me off from his clan. It felt like something was broken, or cut off. I don’t feel like I have to avenge him or anything, it just… feels like something’s missing.”

Hiroshi scowled thoughtfully. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay in control until we get you to Konoha?”

Iruka blinked. “What?” 

Hiroshi was staring back at Iruka. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to, you know, stake me?” Iruka pointed to Tadashi, who was still pointing his sword at Iruka. “Or decapitate me?”

Hiroshi glanced at Tadashi and sighed. “Put the sword down,” he ordered, “Check on Nagase and Chika.” He added, referring to the two fallen shinobi who were still alive, if barely. He then turned back to Iruka. “You say you’re not experiencing any divided loyalty,” he began, “And you haven’t tried to attack us. Why would we kill you?”

Iruka blinked. “Because I’m… a vampire?” he said, beginning to feel confused.

Hiroshi snorted. “Please kid, you’re not the first clanless vampire to be welcomed into Konoha - first one in the last fifty years or so, but certainly not the first  _ ever,” _ Hiroshi rolled his eyes. “We’ll have the hospital get you set up with some donated blood, and you’ll be right as rain.”

Iruka could feel the way he was gaping at Hiroshi, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop staring. “So you’re not going to kill me,” he said numbly. 

“No, but if you start feeling too thirsty be sure to tell us before you get too far gone,” Hiroshi said sharply, pulling himself back to his feet and joining Tadashi by the side of Chika.

Iruka moved to join them, but the first waft of blood to his nose made him think better of it. “I’ll just wait here,” he called across the clearing. 

Tadashi shot a nervous look over his shoulder at Iruka, but Hiroshi just nodded. “Go ahead and pick up that body, we’ll need it for identification.” 

Iruka nodded, hating the way his heart ached as he stared down at the staked, beheaded corpse of his sire. He didn’t want to mourn the monster that had turned him, but he did. It was so strange, mourning someone he’d barely even met. For the first time, Iruka felt like he understood why a shinobi turned vampire would leave their village for their clan. Even though he’d only known his sire for a short time, Iruka felt like he had lost something incredibly precious to him. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to resist that connection after a few hours, much less a few days. His heart ached with new sympathy for those shinobi - once loyal, now lost in the instinctual pull of a vampiric instinct to prioritize the clan over everything else. 

Just in case, Iruka sealed the body and the head in two separate scrolls. By the time he’d finished, Chika was up and moving and Tadashi was helping Nagase to her feet. They’d apparently been filled in, because they both watched Iruka with apprehension, like they expected him to feed on them at any moment. It would have been insulting, if Iruka hadn’t felt the exact same apprehension when looking at them. He didn’t know what to expect or what his instincts might drive him to do, so he hung back, terrified of the potential for an even more disastrous outcome to this mission.

“Let’s go,” Hiroshi said, raising his voice to add, “Iruka, you let us know if the situation changes.”

“Yes sir!” Iruka answered immediately. 

They took off, taking their time due to the number of wounded and chakra-exhausted shinobi in their midst. Iruka hung back at first, but quickly realized that this was a  _ poor decision _ as it left him downwind of the blood, reminding him with every inhale that he was  _ hungry _ and he hadn’t eaten yet. His hand still throbbed from the sunlight burn, and he hadn’t quite learned how to spot the streams of sunlight peeking through the overhead branches, so he acquired a few more burns as he leaped from branch to branch. It was going to take them several hours to get back at this rate, and Iruka just hoped he could make it in time.

As it turned out, he wasn’t able to make it. At about the four hour mark, Iruka held up a hand, signalling for them to come to a halt. Hiroshi dropped beside him, as he was the one member of the team without any open wounds or blood on his clothes. “Iruka?” he said. “Do we have a problem?”

“I think so,” Iruka admitted. His skin felt tight, like it was stretched over a too-large frame. His heart beat sluggishly in his chest, and his vision was growing blurry. He’d started breathing through his mouth, because even when he was upwind, breathing through his nose brought the scent of human blood to him, and he was beginning to think he wasn’t going to be strong enough to resist the temptation. “I think you need to tie me up,” he said.

Hiroshi made a face. “We don’t have anything for restraining vampires, Iruka.” He looked uncomfortable. “There is another option.”

Iruka frowned. “What?”

“Well,” Hiroshi pointedly didn’t meet Iruka’s gaze. “Technically, you’re not alive. So you don’t need to breathe.” He slipped one of the storage scrolls from his flak jacket, staring at Iruka expectantly.

Iruka stared at him in disbelief. “You… you want to seal me inside a scroll until you get back to the village?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Hiroshi asked. He genuinely sounded like he wanted Iruka to have a better suggestion. Unfortunately, Iruka didn’t. 

“I guess I should. Uh. Lay down?” Iruka said, awkwardly lowering himself to the ground, staring up at Hiroshi.

“Hold your breath,” the man suggested, and there was a sudden  _ horrible squeezing sensation all over. _

He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but the  _ pressure _ was immense and horrible and there was no air, no light, no sound, he tried to scream but there was no air in his lungs, everything was collapsing in on him there was nothing but pain and blackness and it just kept stretching on and on. 

Logically, Iruka was only in the storage scroll for two hours, maybe three, before his team arrived at what he thought was Konoha hospital and he was released into a sterile cleanroom with a small bag of blood and high-power chakra seals lining all the walls. 

He burst out of the scroll screaming, finally able to take air into his lungs. He could see again, feel again,  _ think _ again, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He fumbled the bag of blood so badly he spilled half of it down his front, which would have been a lot more unsettling under normal circumstances, but he was still trying to focus on  _ breathing _ and  _ were the walls closing in? _ He glanced around. He was pretty sure the walls weren’t closing in. But not positive. Something didn’t feel right. He shouldn’t be here, he knew that for certain. He didn’t belong here. He shouldn’t have come here. This room was  _ wrong. _

He pounded on the door, hoping that they’d at least left a medic nearby. “Hey!” he shouted, “unlock the door!” 

No answer. Iruka pounded harder. “Hey! Help! Let me out of here!” 

Still nothing.

He was going to be sick. He attacked the door ruthlessly, then the walls, scratching and clawing at his prison, screaming until his throat was raw and his voice was nearly gone. He kept pounding on the door, begging, pleading to be let out. Something was wrong, they’d left him here to die and he  _ wasn’t supposed to be here, _ he had to  _ leave, _ everything hurt and he was trapped and afraid and he couldn’t get out! 

Finally, after what had to have been hours of throwing himself at walls that he  _ knew _ had been sealed to prevent his escape, Iruka crumpled to the floor, exhausted. He just wanted to leave. The blood that he’d spilled all over himself when he’d first been released from the scroll had now dried. He would have to scrub his flak jacket pretty hard to get it out, he thought. If they ever let him go home, that is. He stared down at his hands, wincing at the sight of his mangled fingers. Although the sunlight burns seemed to have faded once he’d drank the blood, he’d managed to rip out a few nails in his frantic scratching at the walls, and his throat ached from screaming. He’d started crying at some point, though he couldn’t remember when, exactly. Now he lay on the ground, tears dripping down his face, weeping helplessly into the cool cement floor. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong or why they’d left him here, he just knew that everything felt  _ wrong _ and he had no more strength left to try and get out.

Just then, the door creaked open.

A horrible, metallic scent filled the room, and Iruka flinched at the way it assaulted his senses. It didn’t matter, though. The door was open, and he needed to  _ leave. _

Lurching to his feet with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, Iruka launched himself at the door. Burning, silver chains caught him before he could even cross the threshold. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Growled the man in the doorway, tugging the silver chains tight around Iruka’s torso, forcing him back.

“Out,” Iruka whimpered. The silver burned, the smell of it searing his nostrils with every inhale. “Please, please, let me out,” he begged.

The man paused, his slight frown puckering the two scars running down his face. Iruka thought he recognized him, but couldn’t quite focus enough to put a name to the face. “What do you mean, out?” the man demanded.

“I can’t be in here,” Iruka said, “I don’t know… something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Please, I have to get out of here, please,” he fought against the chains, “I need to go out.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Iruka, folding his arms over his broad chest, still gripping the silver chain in one of his fists. “Go out and do what?”

“I don’t know!” Iruka wailed, his voice cracking. Oh, his throat still hurt from all the screaming, he shouldn’t have gotten so loud. “I have to leave,” he whispered, “please, please, just let me out.”

“Where will you go if I let you out?” The man pressed, still glowering down at Iruka.

“I don’t know,” Iruka confessed, “I just can’t… I can’t be here, I don’t…”

“Aw fuck,” the man cursed suddenly, slapping a palm to his face. “Did no one think to invite you into the village?”

Iruka felt his body tense.  _ An invitation, _ some part of him hissed frantically.  _ Please, please, please! _ “I was inside the storage scroll,” Iruka explained, even as the desperation seemed to grow more intense now that this man had put a word to it.  _ I need an invitation. I need it! _

“Ah. Right. Implicit invitations only work if you’re sharing the same physical space,” the man murmured, “storage scroll functions in a way that would prevent that implicit invitation from taking effect.”

Iruka had no idea what the hell this man was talking about but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he didn’t get an invitation in the next thirty seconds he was going to do something  _ incredibly stupid. _ “Please,” he half-sobbed. “Please.”

“Oh, fuck, right,” the man said, dropping the silver chains even as he spoke, “Umino Iruka, I formally invite you into the village of Konoha, into the Konoha Intelligence Division’s Headquarters, and into this interrogation room.”

The relief that Iruka felt at the loosening of the silver chains was  _ nothing _ compared to the relief of receiving a formal invitation to the village. “Oh,” he gasped, nearly falling over at the sudden wave of  _ rightness _ overtaking him. “I think… I don’t have to leave anymore.” 

The man snorted. Now that his brain wasn’t so taxed with the need to  _ leave immediately, _ Iruka was able to recognize the man. He realized he was staring at none other than Morino Ibiki. 

“Oh!” Iruka exclaimed, struggling to pull himself upright despite the exhaustion that seemed to be settling into his bones, “Sir. Um. Am I here for debrief?”

“Actually, we just had you in here as a precaution, in case the blood deprivation had devolved to a state of feral vampirism,” Ibiki answered, digging into one of his coat’s inner pockets, retrieving another small bag of blood and extending it in Iruka’s direction. “When you started pounding on the doors and screaming to be let out, my team assumed the worst. Which was obviously a  _ mistake,” _ he added in a louder tone, glancing over his shoulder and down what Iruka had thought was an empty hallway. 

After a moment of concentration, he was able to pick up the sound of three distinct heartbeats from just around the corner of the corridor. Well. He’d always had a good sense of hearing, but not  _ that _ good. Must be his new vampire instincts. “It was an honest mistake,” Iruka said.

“Take the damn blood, Umino,” Ibiki snapped, shaking the bag of blood in his hands. “It looks like you wore most of your first one.”

“The storage scroll was. Uh. Bad,” Iruka tried to explain, glancing down at himself with a grimace. “My hands weren’t steady.”

“Hm, noted,” Ibiki said thoughtfully. “Drink the  _ blood, _ Iruka.”

Iruka blinked, realizing he still hadn’t taken the bag from Ibiki, “Right. Uh. Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ibiki growled, “I still have to debrief my team.” He growled the word  _ debrief _ in a way that made Iruka feel like he’d actually said the word  _ punish _ .

“Right,” Iruka said, eyeing the bag of blood. There was a small cap at the top of the bag, which he popped off, taking a sip.  _ Oh.  _ **_Ohhhh._ **

He hadn’t realized how much energy he’d lost in his agitated,  _ un-invited _ state until he began drinking the blood. Once he started, he couldn’t  _ stop. _ He drank, and drank, and drank until the bag was completely empty, and he still needed  _ more. _

Ibiki was watching him with a curious look. “Well?”

“I,” Iruka felt his face heating with embarrassment. “I think I need more,” he confessed. “I did a real number on myself in there.”

Ibiki scowled. “Blood ain’t cheap,” he grumbled, digging into the other side of his long coat, “and it’s  _ coming out of your paychecks,” _ he added, raising his voice and glancing down the hall again. 

Iruka winced. “Oh, if it’s expensive, I can-”

“No,” Ibiki interrupted, pulling out another bag of blood and handing it to Iruka.  This time, Iruka accepted the bag immediately, popping the cap and drinking it as fast as the small pouch would allow.  “It wouldn’t have been this expensive if these dunderheads had just bothered  _ inviting _ you to the village as soon as you exited the scroll.” Ibiki shot a scowl down the hall. “Since they  _ didn’t, _ they’ll be paying to clean up their own mess.”

Iruka bobbed his head to show he was listening, not wanting to stop drinking for even the second it would take to verbally respond.

In the end, it took three more bags of blood to leave Iruka feeling - well, not  _ alive again, _ as he would never be alive again. But he finally found himself feeling more  _ Un-  _ than  _ dead. _ He was able to give Ibiki a bit more information on the missing-nin, and had to fill out an incredibly detailed report about his experience with the turning as clanless vampires were a fairly rare occurrence and as such, eyewitness accounts of vampires being turned were quite unusual. All in all, it was several more hours before he was finally free to head back home. But he didn’t  _ want _ to go home yet. He was exhausted, not only physically, but mentally. He just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t taking notes for his (now significantly thicker) personnel file in the records room.

So Iruka headed for Ichiraku Ramen, hoping to have a quick conversation with Teuchi. When he arrived, he unthinkingly ordered a bowl of miso ramen with extra pork. When Teuchi set it down in front of him, though, Iruka stared down at it dumbly. 

“Teuchi-san,” he said faintly, “does this… have garlic in it?”

Teuchi, who had been about to start washing dishes, turned around and approached the counter. “Yes, Iruka-kun,” he said, “why? Is something wrong with the flavor?”

“I… No,” Iruka said, feeling tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “No, it tastes fine.” He took his first bite. It still tasted as delicious as ever. He sniffed, swallowing the noodles past the growing lump in his throat. He took two more bites before he felt his lips and tongue start to itch. He set his chopsticks down and stared at the soup, frantically telling himself  _ not to cry. _

“Iruka-kun,” Teuchi said softly, “Is something wrong?”

“The soup is fine,” Iruka answered in a strained voice, licking his numb lips with a tongue that felt fuzzy and too-large in his itchy mouth. 

“I wasn’t asking about the soup, Iruka-kun,” Teuchi said in a gentle tone.

“I can’t eat garlic anymore,” Iruka said, “I don’t even know if I can eat  _ any _ food anymore.” He lifted his eyes to meet Teuchi’s gaze. “I’m a vampire.”

Teuchi’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, but he didn’t treat Iruka to the same cold, suspicious stare that his teammates had, nor the calculating evaluative look that Ibiki and the other people in the Intelligence Division had subjected him to for the past few hours. Instead, he leaned back a little, folding his arms. “Well,” he said. “I needed a new challenge to keep my skills up. Come back tomorrow and I’ll have garlic-free broth waiting for you.” 

Iruka blinked hard to chase away the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, no, Teuchi-san, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me, that wouldn’t be fair!” 

“Nonsense,” Teuchi chided. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Iruka swallowed hard. “Really?” he asked in a small voice.

“Come back tomorrow, Iruka-kun,” Teuchi urged. “I’ll need someone to taste-test my garlic-free broth, and you know my soup better than anyone.”

Iruka nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, slowly setting the still-full bowl of ramen up on the counter. “Thank you.”

Teuchi grunted in response, rummaging in his kitchen for a moment before handing Iruka a small bag. “The noodles and pork are already garlic free,” he explained. “Have them in some dashi soup stock. It’s not the same, but it’ll do for tonight.”

Iruka accepted the small bag with a grin. “Thank you,” he said again, more firmly this time, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Teuchi said sharply, giving Iruka a hard look. “You’re a good kid. Don’t let some allergy to garlic get you down.”

“It’s a lot more than an allergy to garlic,” Iruka said, chuckling a little. “But I see your point. Thanks, Teuchi-san.”

“Be back tomorrow to try the garlic-free broth,” Teuchi told him gruffly.

“I will,” Iruka promised. He left the shop, clutching the bag of noodles and pork to his chest as he headed home, his heart far lighter than it had been when he’d first arrived at Ichiraku. “I will,” he whispered again, glancing down at the small bag of noodles. “Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> So it turns out I can't leave this AU alone.  
> This is the first of what will probably end up being another 2 -3 oneshots in this same AU. I just love the idea of Iruka being a hapless milquetoast vampire too much to leave it at one fic. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!


End file.
